


The Point of a Knife

by Urghh



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azgeda Clarke, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7955773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urghh/pseuds/Urghh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is captured and held prisoner.<br/>---<br/>The wind had dried the blood on Clarke’s hands. Knuckles white, she held on to her knife. It was all she had. The Polis tower poked through the horizon. She kept going. Exhausted. She was slowly drooping like a plant cut off from all that nourishes its life. At last, she collapsed.<br/>---<br/>Canon divergent from when the 100 land on the ground</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The wind had dried the blood on Clarke’s hands. Knuckles white, she held on to her knife. It was all she had. The Polis tower poked through the horizon. She kept going. Exhausted. She was slowly drooping like a plant cut off from all that nourishes its life. At last, she collapsed.

Clarke’s cheek was hugging the cold floor when she woke up. The pain in her leg was anchoring her to the ground. Faded, azure eyes drifted aimlessly over her figure. The eyes belonged to a man. Although metal bars were separating Clarke and the spectator, his gaze felt no less intruding. His beard was black with a few white strands woven into it. In his hand was a knife - Clarke’s knife. “Azgeda,” he mumbled as he traced his finger on the engravings on the weapon. “A spy?”

Clarke’s mouth had gone dry and dried saliva glued her lips together.

After receiving no answer, the man stood up revealing his enormous height. He opened the door to the cell and pulled her to her feet almost tearing her collar. She tried to push him away, but it was to no use. He was too big. “Why are you here!” he spat at her.

“I need to speak to the Commander” Clarke managed to say.

He scratched his balding pate and grinned. “Oh, the spy wants to speak to the commander,” he said mockingly. “You will meet her when she has to determine your fate.”

 

* * *

 

_The ice queen brought her hand to Clarke’s face. Clarke flinched expecting to get hit, but instead the woman gently stroked her cheek. “No marks,” she noted. “So innocent.” Then she smiled. “Let's do something about that.”_

 

* * *

 

A distant shouting of orders echoed in the dark of the hallway. A few seconds later, the commander emerged from the shadows with a group of guards following her.

Clarke lifted her head slightly and locked eyes with the Commander. No emotion seeped through the commander's stern look. She was as intimidating as Clarke had been told.

“Speak,” the commander said with a sharp voice.

“I seek refuge from Azgeda.”

“What makes you think I would grant you that.”

“I am… I was queen Nia’s second.”

Had Clarke blinked, she would have missed it; a subtle, nervous twitch formed in the corner of the commander’s mouth at the mention of Queen Nia. It was a tiny crack in her façade, but Clarke saw it, and she held on to it.

 

* * *

 

_On her face, a net of pink scar tissue had replaced the dark, crusty flakes of coagulated blood - she had been marked by the queen herself. Clarke was alive, yet it felt like her body was strangling her. Blue, pulsing veins winded around and through her limb like a parasitic plant crawling up a tree and slowly sucking the life out of it. She felt hollow inside which left room for her empty shell to echo with survivor’s guilt._

 

* * *

 

She woke up with a warm but itchy blanket on top of her. Next to her was a cup of cold soup. Clarke became aware of the compelling need to fill her stomach and poured the lumpy substance down her throat. The man who had been questioning her the day before sat on a chair outside her cell and was following her every move. The soup had a familiar smell. Clarke recognized it from her training as a healer in the north. She took some of the remaining soup and dabbed it on the wound on her leg. Then Clarke ripped a piece of her clothing off to use it as a bandage. The man furrowed his brows as she treated her wound. "What are you looking at?"

The prison guard sighed. "I am just following the commander’s orders. I have to keep an eye on you."

"Surprised to see me alive?"

"No, our commander is merciful."

“Sure… “ Clarke tried to contain her sarcasm but couldn’t help the sharpness in her tone. “Why am I still locked up?”

“The commander does not trust you… for obvious reasons.”

 

* * *

 

_The queen had taken Clarke under her wing and filled her emptiness with purpose. After the queen had discovered Clarke’s talent for healing, she had been assigned healer duties and given a healer as her mentor. Her mentor’s name was Otis. He didn't know of the life she had before the Ice Nation took her in. In fact, no one knew of her past life and she was even starting to forget about it herself._

_“Ok. Ehm… today, we are going to collect medicinal plants and herbs.” Otis said._

_“Plant’s?” As a ponderous ice sheet covered the landscape, Clarke couldn’t imagine that the land was fertile._

_“There are plenty of plants out here. You just have to know where to look,” Otis said proudly._

_Otis told Clarke about the hidden tundras. How they were rich in life and how plants were so dense they would form mats under your feet. His voice was soaked in passion. He talked about animal herds so vast they would blot out all earth in sight. He talked about how some plants have leaves as thick as leather and how some plants have small hairs that comb moisture from ground fog._

_After it had seemed like they had walked their soles thin, Otis stopped abruptly in the middle of nowhere and looked around confused. “The plant’s...”_

_“What about the plants?” Clarke asked while furrowing her eyebrows. There were no plants in sight - in fact, there were nothing in sight._

_“This,” he looked down at his feet, “is where they used to be.”_

 

* * *

 

“Any information on the girl from Azgeda,” Lexa asked the prison guard.

“She is a little rough around the edges, but she has shown no ill intent so far. She says her name is Clarke, and her story matches the rumors. I think she is who she says she is. Even the parts about her being a skilled healer. She used the soup that you ordered. I believe we could use her.”

“Why is she here?”

“She won’t tell me. She want’s to talk to you.”

Lexa pondered the situation deeply. Strange at it may have seemed, Lexa was intrigued by the girl and by the fact that the girl had walked all the way from Azgeda. Perhaps she had had a horse at one point, but when some hunters had found her outside of Polis, she had been completely alone. “Arrange a meeting.”

 

* * *

 

_As the plants were not where they used to be, Otis decided to extend their search further south._

_In the distance, the top of the dropship became visible. It stuck out like a sore thumb - even though it was now covered in snow. No wonder they had been attacked within a couple of days after landing on the ground, Clarke thought._

_As they walked closer, Clarke fully grasped the reality of her situation; they were all dead. She was the only one left. For the first time since she lost her friends, she let the tears run down her cheeks. She let her knees hit the ground. She looked up towards the sky. White, crystallized powder drizzled down and melted as soon as it hit her rosy cheeks. Convulsively, she tried to catch her breath while she sobbed._

_“Oh Clarke,” Otis said, “Oh my dear.”_

_He looked at her. He knew._

 

* * *

 

With one elbow resting on the armrest, the commander sat on her throne waiting for Clarke. Several guards were lined up against the walls. Clarke tried to dodge their hostile glances.

“You wanted to speak with me.”

“Yes.”

“How do I know you speak the truth?”

“I guess you don’t.”

“Why did you leave Azgeda?”

“The queen saw me as a threat,” Clarke said. She was going to let the commander make her assumptions rather than reveal too much about herself and thereby limiting her chances of being busted in a lie. At first, she thought the commander was going to interrogate her but there was a whiff of wonder, and perhaps fear, coating the commander’s voice.

Clarke stepped closer to the commander. She could feel the guards’ eyes drilling into her back as she entered their beloved commander's personal space. “In a few months, Azgeda is planning on attacking,” Clarke said those words in a soft, hushed voice as if they were spoken too loud, it would set off a series of vibrations that would crack the surface of the earth open, and she would be swallowed whole.

“It can’t be true. I just invited them into the coalition. We are negotiating a trading system at the moment.”

“It is all front.”

“How so?”

Clarke took a deep breath. “The population of tundra animals repeatedly explode and crash. Cold temperatures during the summer significantly lessen the chances of survival for the wild animals. The animals who do survive migrate further South. It has been one of those summers - only worse than ever. Azgeda is attacking out of necessity. They are going to starve if they don’t.”


	2. 2

_Suddenly, a shadow rummaged in the corner of Clarke’s eye. Almost giving herself a whiplash, she turned her head. A dark-clad figure wandered between the white flicker; hidden in the blizzard. As they got closer, they realized it was a man eating from an old deer carcass. He was shaking. His nose, ears, and fingers had withered away from frostbite. His cheeks hollowed by hunger. With no hesitation, Nia drew her sword and poked the last life out of the man and his cold, pale skin steamed as a tidal wave of hot blood covered his chest._

_Clarke looked at Nia; eyes accusing._

_“It was necessary,” Nia said coldly. “He wasn’t going to survive.”_

_“It was harsh.”_

_“Life is harsh Clarke. You of all should be able to understand that.”_

_“It doesn’t have to be,” Clarke said in a faint whisper._

_“It doesn’t have to be,” Clarke said again; this time even quieter. She was mostly talking to herself._

 

* * *

 

She felt the springs from the lumpy mattress gnaw into her back as she tried to fall asleep. Suddenly, Titus came running with a concerned look on his face. “Your help is needed.”

“Me?” Clarke said perplexed.

“Yes, hurry!”

On a high bed, just opposite the door, lied a girl surrounded by guards. She moved uneasily on her pillow, as though in pain. It was the commander. She looked completely different like this.

“She got injured during training,” Titus muttered as she exchanged a furtive glance with the commander.

Her cuts were too deep to be accidental. Someone had made those with the intent to injure or kill the commander. You didn’t even have to be medically trained to see that. “Okay,” Clarke said as she looked between the two trying to figure out why they were lying.

 

* * *

 

 

_"Wells?"_

 

* * *

 

  
  
Reluctantly, Lexa allowed Clarke to wash her cuts on her face and arms.

Although Lexa had nodded in agreement, she had made far from a wholehearted attempt to comply. She had expressed a clear determination not to want to lay down. Therefore, she sat, arms crossed, against the headboard of the bed while watching Clarke carefully. Clarke cleaned the commander's wounds - one by one. 

As the evening went on the small wax candles were having a hard time keeping the dark away. The fire in the fireplace was slowly dying out and the darkness prowled closer. Only small, orange embers were twinkling in the black ash. The dim light dwelled faintly in each of the commander’s eyes. It caught Clark's attention for a split second before Clarke withdrew and directed her attention elsewhere. It was only a fleeting moment, but it felt like a whole lot longer. Her eyes laid upon a guard. She had almost forgotten that she and Lexa were not alone in the room.

"I think we are done here," Lexa said. "Take the prisoner to her cell."

 

* * *

 

_Then, in sudden fright of what she had said, Clarke clasped her hands over her mouth._

_“You know this sky person?” Queen Nia said as she turned to look at her second as she gestured at the person the guards had dragged inside._

_Clarke had already said too much and Nia already knew the answer to her question._

 

* * *

 

Clarke, the commander's healer, was a separate entity from herself. It was a mask that she wore so that she eventually would be able to complete her mission. That was what she kept telling herself. She felt like an imposter in her own life; at least she used to. That was before the lie had become her reality and the different versions of herself had merged. But she was on a mission. She had to keep reminding herself.

 

* * *

 

 

_“You were one of them,” the Queen stated as she squinted her eyes and looked at Clarke in disbelief._

_Clarke had taken a deep breath before she spoke. “Is.” Clarke corrected her. “I am one of them. They are my people.”_

_Queen Nia addressed the guards in her own tongue, which now sounded more like an animalistic growl than an actual language in Clarke’s ears._

 

* * *

 

“Heda, you have been spending a lot of time with Clarke kom Azgeda lately. A few people, including myself, have been questioning her intentions. After all, she is from Azgeda.” Titus said and grimaced as if the word tasted bad in his mouth. “You do not seem to worry about her close affiliation with Queen Nia,” he said while deep valleys of worry formed on his forehead.

“We need her because of her close relation to Queen Nia. She knows her plans, her weaknesses, and her strengths.”

“Why would she work against her own nation? It makes no sense.”

 

* * *

_“How can I trust you now that I know that you are one of the people who fell from the sky?”_

_“You trusted me before. Didn’t you?” Clarke said as her blue eyes twinkled with despair._

_The queen's eyes were soft yet remorseful. “If you had just told me, this could have been avoided.” She shook her head. “You have made a fool of me. Now that everyone knows, you have to prove your loyalty to Azgeda.”_

_“How am I supposed to do that?”_

_“I had this made for you,” the Queen said as she held a small weapon out in front of her. The handle was carved from deer antler, covered with intricate patterns and the blade resembled a silver icicle. “You and your people will be safe if I get this back covered in black blood.”_

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language so if there are any weird mistakes that's probably why :)
> 
> Thank you for reading :))


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